


All that Remains

by daliarod



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dark Jon Snow, F/M, Jon Snow/Alayne Stone - Freeform, Slow Burn, Spoilers for Book 6 - The Winds of Winter, The Vale storyline, i love torturing ourselves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 12:18:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16218884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daliarod/pseuds/daliarod
Summary: During Sweetrobin's tourney for choosing the eight members of the new Brotherhood of Winged Knights, a mysterious emissary arrives at the Vale. Memories of her past come in the flesh to haunt Alayne Stone threatening her existence and goal to regain Winterfell.-----"As if she was caught under a spell, the dark eyes of a man entranced her from the opposite side of the tourney. His raven dark curls framed his face perfectly. Her chest began to rise rapidly. It’s him. He shamelessly stared at her taking her all in. She should have looked away, feeling improper."





	All that Remains

“My sweet daughter, awaken. We have special guests making their way to the Gates of the Moon as we speak.” He slowly walked towards the windows opening the curtains and airing the room with the small opening of the window. “There’s no time to waste everything must be ready for their arrival. Lord Royce has started preparations for their accommodations.”

“Who’s coming, Father?” she lazily stretched among the comfort of her feathered bed. She took a hold of her robe that was draped on her nightstand wrapping it around herself. She stood behind her bed post observing his every movement around her room, he opened her dresser skimming over her gowns. Arranged her perfumes and jewelry out on her dressing table. “All the knights and ladies have arrived for the tourney. Who’s more important than Ser Harold?” She questioned as he continued to roam her room.

She recalled the magical night from before when she danced with many of the knights of the Vale and just as her Father had promised Ser Harrold Hardyng was waiting for a dance of his own. Her future betrothed as charming as a Prince had been rude to Alayne for being baseborn yet he had two bastards of his own with two different women. Alayne smiled at the thought of their dance. _I’ll be the only spice you would need._ Her boldness had astonished her yet Harold had asked for her favor to wear for the tourney. She refused him to bear her favor as her Father advised. For Alayne this was only the beginning, by the end of the tourney she will have him begging for her attention and affirmation.

Her Father maneuvered his way to her, grasping her delicate hands and molding them into his. The smell of his minty breath grazed her lips. “Let’s just say you must look every part my daughter. Your safety depends on it, your future depends on it. Now be a good daughter and make sure that everyman cannot keep his eyes away from you. Can you do that for me?”

He heart skipped a beat. How could she become such a woman? Many men looked at her even when she was in the simplest garbs making her feel uncomfortable. All she wanted was to feel safe again perhaps back at home with her companion but that reality was far gone now, ripped away by a selfish paranoid woman who was far away from her as possible. Those dreams belonged to another girl younger than Alayne.

“Of course, Father. I’ll wear our sigil proud.” she lowered her gazed trying to hide her fear. Yet he felt her hands tremble beneath his, nothing could escape from him. He read her like an open book.

“Now, now, Alayne. You are in my care and no ill will befall you as long as I shall live. You can be brave?”

She felt the cold air fill her lungs. She felt winter in her bones, she can gather strength from Winterfell. Her home is leagues away occupied by strangers but in these cold mountains she could feel the Old Gods calling to her through the northern winds. _Yes I can be brave like Robb, like my Lady Mother. Like Father… the Starks are brave._

“I’m always brave.” Her chin was raised by his soft hand. He gave her a smile that reached his gray-green eyes. _He’s Lord Baelish with me, not Littlefinger._

“Yes you are my dear. Never disappoint me.” He gave her hands a light kiss. “Now get ready, many new faces will grace these halls. Let everyone speak of the beaming beauty of Lord Baelish’s daughter.” His hands slipped slowly from hers and with a short smile that did not reach his eyes he closed the door behind him.

Alayne gasped in the cold air that had filled her room. As she reached over to close the window snowflakes started to fall, instantly melting as they touched her pale skin. She closed her eyes taking in the strength of winter. The snow came rushing in as the wind blew her brown strands of hair away from her face. She invited the coldness in, she was no stranger to the harshness of winter snows. It reminded her of the laughter of children, playfully throwing snowballs at each other. It reminded her of a young man with snowflakes on his auburn curls. Of an old woman and her many tales who captivated and mesmerized these children beneath the bedsheets attentive to hear the fate of its heroes. Tears threatened to spill as she opened her eyes but she reminded herself to be bastard brave. _Bastards don’t have the luxury of such longing._ She swiftly closed the window locking out the snow and any memories of her unforgotten past.

Her gowns were as simple as they can be, with minimal embellishments. Her father gifted her his late wife’s belongings but as soon as she saw them a sense of dread overcame her deciding it was best to send those gowns to be locked away.

Myranda Royce always insisted Alayne should have kept the dresses since they were fashionable and of expensive fibers however she rebutted that it would not be right for Lord Arryn to see her wearing his mother’s gowns. Myranda only cheekily smiled that Sweetrobin wouldn’t have mind her use of them knowing how attached he was to Alayne. She always had to be a step ahead of Myranda, always wanting to incite and get a reaction from her. Her Father did warned Alayne to keep her distance.

She opted to use a silver satin gown with blue birds embroidered on the square neckline, along the edges of the winged sleeves and at the bottom of the dress. It was elegant and yet modest to remind her that she is a Stone and not a trueborn daughter. She called in her maid to help arrange her hair in lose curls with two small braids on each side that connected into one at the back. Her favorite perfume had a citrus and wood smell which she rubbed behind her ears, neckline, wrists, and behind her knees. She pinched her cheeks to bring color to her skin and added a touch of rouge to her lips giving her a tint of freshly kissed lips.

“You look so lovely, Lady Alayne. No high born lady has ever looked as beautiful as you.” Her maid warmly observed her.

“Thank you, I have to help Lord Arryn get ready now.” she shyly returned her smile.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to lessen your status, don’t pay me any mind. I’ll remember myself.” She curtsied and left the room.

Alayne did not think much of it, she stared at the looking-glass and saw someone else. _I can be brave._ Being a bastard gave her many liberties that Lady Sansa could not have. However being the Lord Protector’s daughter did not quite make her invisible to the scrutiny of others.

Alayne gently knocked against Sweetrobin’s door. She slipped in as the Maester opened the door, “Lady Alayne, what a relieved that you are here. Our Lord refuses to drink his Sweetmilk.”

She looked at the sickly boy hiding behind the sheets concealing his screams of refusal to drink anything. “I don’t need it. I’m strong, tell him Alayne.” his muffled cries could be barely heard as he wiped his nose on his sleeve.

Alayne sat next to the little lord. She pushed his long silky hair back and used a napkin to wipe his tears, “Lord Robert you are very strong, but your Maester only wants was best for you. You don’t want to miss the start of the tourney for not drinking your Sweetmilk.”

The young lord shook his head and whined, “No, but I don’t need it. I’m all better.”

“I can see you grow stronger by the day. Your Winged Knights would gather courage from seeing their liege Lord so mighty like the falcon from your sigil. My Sweetrobin, don’t leave it to chance and drink it.” She took the small prescribed bottle from Maester Colemon and handed it to Robert, “Please.”

His quivering hands took the bottle from Alayne and took several sips before he finished the Sweetmilk. Alayne set the bottle aside and smiled, “You would look so handsome donning your doublet of cream and blue. I’ll have your maids get it ready for you.”

“Alayne, can you please sit next to me during the tourney?” He rushed to hold her hands keeping her in place on his bed.

She got startled at the strength of his grip, “It’s improper for me to be at the dais with you. Remember Sweetrobin, I’m only baseborn. But I’ll be there at the stands close by.”

His clammy hands began to twist her fingers. “I’m the Lord of the Vale and I want you to sit next to me. I don’t care for anyone else.” Noticing his impatience, Alayne gave him a swift kiss on his hands to release his grip.

“Possibly when the tourney is over I’ll sit next to you. Until then I can only hope for that day to come.”

The small boy agreed, “I’ll make sure the victor crowns you Queen of Love and Beauty. You are the fairest lady.”

She was given a red rose by the Knight of Flowers, Ser Loras Tyrell, for her father’s… for Lord Starks Hand’s Tourney. It was a life time ago but the feeling has never wilted away. It was childish to linger on these thoughts but for that moment she felt the never-ending blush in her cheeks. “There are plenty of fair ladies of higher birth that are attending. Not to mention a few are engaged it would be such a humiliation if they favor someone who isn’t their betrothed. You wouldn’t want that for me?”

“No, Alayne. I’m- I’m sorry.” The young Lord lowered his gaze.

“I’ll have to find my Lord Father. You must excuse me, Lord Arryn.” Alayne stood and quickly made her way out the door ignoring his protest to stay with him.

Mya Stone was at the end of the hallway, “Got the Lord to drink his Sweetmilk, eh Alayne?” The tomboyish woman approached her with a sharp smile. “He always listens to you.”

Booming footsteps startled them as Myranda Royce giggled with excitement. Mya looked unimpressed, “Go ahead say what you have to say.”

Myranda gave Mya a side glance over her shoulder, “What’s the fun in that when I can have you pleading me to tell you. Do you take the bite, Alayne?”

She gave Myranda a quizzical hum, “I don’t know, just spit it out.” Alayne did not have time for such trivial gossip that she might have stirred up at the dance last night.

Myranda clasped her hands and guided them towards a near storeroom. Closing the door behind them she whispered, “I overheard my Lord Father with Lord Baelish speak about the arrival of an emissary sent my King Stannis who’s preparing to fight the Boltons.”

Sansa felt a shudder through her, they murdered her brother and mother. She despised Lord Bolton for his betrayal. She wished that Stannis will bring an end to his house and destroy the Dreadfort. Mya noticed her discomfort, “Is everything alright, Alayne?”

Her eyes fluttered but she stood still. _Yes, I’m Alayne. She wouldn’t know of any such Northern houses. Nor have such hatred bottled up inside her._ “Yes, I’m alright. It took a lot this morning to convince Lord Arryn to drink his Sweetmilk, that’s all. Continue Myranda.”

Lady Royce squinted her eyes but finally spoke, “He’s hoping to convince the Lords of the Vale to take up arms against the throne and join him against House Frey and the Boltons. Can you believe? The Vale hasn’t seen any war and with the tourney many men are looking for a chance to prove themselves.”

Alayne surely felt sick with the mention of such names. She kept her face stoic but inside she wanted to burst with tears and scream. “It’s not lady-like to talk of such things, Myranda. I’m sure the Lord Protector will keep the Vale safe. He doesn’t need to entertain this emissary for long; he is rather wasting his time with this folly.”

Mya despite her coolness felt alarmed, “Lady Lysa is long gone; she kept us from war. Only the Lords would decide now. He couldn’t have arrived in such a bad time.”

“Or in the best of times. There are many Lords and Ladies that he can convince, if he’s wise enough.” Myranda let out a slight smile. “Lighten up, the tourney starts today! Don’t let these small rumors stop the festivities.”

Alayne needed to talk to her Father more than anything. She questioned if the arrival of the emissary was the reason for his interest in her attire. If Myranda spoke the truth, King Stannis will be fighting the Boltons at Winterfell. Her Father had promised her that he would reveal her identity to reclaim Winterfell, Lady Sansa’s birthright. It all felt too soon, Ser Harold hasn’t fallen in love with her. _He won’t marry me if he doesn’t love me. Don’t be stupid he will be marrying Sansa Stark, a highborn lady not Alayne. Surely once he knows who I am he will want to marry me._ That only made Sansa sad, it was a reminder that no one will marry her for love instead her claim.

She excused herself rather hastily from Mya and Myranda hoping that her urgency of finding her Father did not reveal the real reason for her sudden mood. The Gates of the Moon was filled with the sounds of steel against steel at the training-yard and of chatty women and men. Sansa made her way through the crowd smiling and avoiding any prolonged discussions.

She spotted Ser Lothor Brune, _surely he would know where my Father is._ He was observing two knights with blunt blades fighting with one another, he did a double take when he spotted her. He smiled and lowered his head to great her. “Lady Alayne, it’s good to see you. Ready for the start of the tourney, the jousting and melee will begin very soon.” He noticed the worried look in her face, “Is something else occupying your mind?”

Alayne snapped out of her trance. This environment resurfaced many memories that she had tucked away. Ser Luthor had participated at the Hand’s Tourney though lost against Ser Robar Royce, long dead if the rumors were correct against his own brother from the Rainbow Guard Ser Loras. Many people who she once knew were dead or simply never heard of them again. _Alayne, doesn’t know any of these men. She is from Gulltown and has never attended a tourney before._

“I’m sorry Ser Brune. I’m just quite amazed at everything. I’ve never seen so many nobles at one place. This is my first attendance. Have you seen my Father perchance?”

He gave her a knowing nod, “He’s in his study speaking with some men that arrived this morning. I don’t believe he wishes to be disturbed even if you are his daughter.”

Alayne looked around to find a way to dismiss herself and find her Father, “Would you be jousting for a pair of wings Ser Brune?” She smiled with her teeth. Ser Luthor shyly rubbed his neck and combed his hair with his gloved hands.

“Yes I am, Lady Alayne. If you haven’t and it would be such an honor. An honor to hold your favor. That’s if you haven’t given it to someone else than I understand. I hope-”

She cut him off and handed him a light blue velvet ribbon with a mockingbird. “The honor would be all mine. I hope my favor will give you all the luck you may need, if any.” Ser Lothor had protected her against the singer Marillion’s advances, she was grateful for his presence that dreadful night. His rescue prevented her dishonor. Giving him her favor was the least she could do to show her appreciation.

“Thank you Lady Alayne I would wear it proudly.”

“Would you like for me to wrap it around your lance during the tourney?” She mentioned as the older man couldn’t keep his eyes away from her.

“If that is what you wish, in the mean time I would like to display it around my wrist.” Alayne took it from his hand and wrapped the ribbon twice around his wrist and tied it into a bow that showed the black mockingbird. “If you would excuse me, I’ll leave you so you can prepare for the tourney. I’ll be very attentive for you appearance Ser Bruce.” The stocky strong man quietly bowed his head and parted towards the training yard.

Alayne couldn’t have picked a better man to lend her favor, Ser Harrold Hardyng would surely take notice of her choice. She left him with his mouth agape when she told him that her favor was promised to another when she didn’t have the slightest idea who it would be.

It wasn’t long after she made her way out of that yard when Ser Harrold and the two Waynwoods, Roland and Wallace, marched down the steps.

She meant to hide but Ser Harrold caught her before she had the chance to merge herself with a group of ladies. He yelled out her name to gain her attention. It was only right for Alayne to acknowledge them. She curtsied and greeted them individually ignoring the stutters from Wallace Waynwood. “I must apologized but I have to visit my Lord Father.”

“Lady Alayne if I can have a word with you. It would only take a fragment of your time.” Harrold let out a breath licking his lips at the end of his sentence.

“I truly cannot.” she passed through them when Harrold reached for her forearm. “I beg you, Lady Alayne.” She glanced down at his hand and as an instinct he let go of her. She smiled, “Your time if fleeing if you don’t speak Ser Harrold.”

The two Waynwoods noticed their intrusion and continued down the steps. “I could not stop thinking about you after our dance. Even if your favor is with someone else I hope that my initial rudeness can be forgiven. Lady Anya made me realized that I shouldn’t behave in such a way towards a Lady.”

Even after his apology, Alayne, could not forgive him. He had embarrassed her in front of many. Of course she would not let him know that, she is smarter than that. With indifference Alayne looked at him, “If you win a joust then you might garner my forgiveness Ser Harrold.” She left it at that and continued up the steps to find Lord Baelish.

She had many nerves trying to find her Father and be notified of the arrival of the emissary. This was the closest she ever heard of any news of the North. Not only did the Vale kept away from any war but it seemed that everyone was sheltered from the horrid news that still plagued the Seven Kingdoms. Aside from Highgarden, the Vale was well supplied for the winter. She could not help but imagine how her life would have been at Highgarden with Lord Willas Tyrell. She had envision it before but that was another girl not Alayne.

She reached her Father’s chambers where Oswell was standing vigil by the door. “I need to speak to my Father.”

He gave her a chilling stare and grunted while he spoke. “He’s occupied with guests and the Lords of the Vale. You would have to come another time.”

Alayne heard their mutter voices concealed by the thick wood door. Oswell Kettleblack made sure she felt unwelcomed as she roamed around the hall. She resigned to wait in her own chambers. Her mind buzzed with thoughts that meant to consume her that she called for the Maester to give her a tea to calm her nerves. After a few moments Petyr came waltzing in with worry. “Are you feeling well, my child?” he took the seat next to her and reached over to place a hand on her cheek. She moved away from his hand and Petyr had no choice but to fold his hands on the table. “Oswell told me that you passed by.”

“Can you please tell me, what the emissary wants from the Vale?” Littlefinger’s brows raised at the mention of the man. “Myranda told me, I hope that any news would be shared by you rather than someone else. I don’t like secrets being kept from me Lord Baelish.”

He reached over to place his hand on her arm that extended to her cup of tea. He began moving his hand back and forth as to comfort her “I’m only trying to protect you,” _No one can protect me._ “To prepare you. Any mistake can cost us our lives, my sweet Alayne.”

“How can I be prepared if you leave me in the dark.” She stood distancing herself from him. She looked over her shoulder where he was wiping away some of the spilled tea from his sleeve.

“Your well-being is what I care about. You are my daughter, if your mother had chosen her happiness over duty, you would have been my child. You are the only one who remains that can carry her memory onwards. You have her honest Tully eyes.” He stood as well and began to approach her extending his arms to hold her near. “I told you of our plans. Winterfell is near to come into fruition. Believe me,” He tucked in the strands of hair behind her ears. “You must always be Alayne no matter who you are with. Until you a revealed, Alayne is who you are. Promise me.”

“I’m Alayne, Father. No one else. Who else could I be?”

He smirked but his eyes did not glimmer. “Alayne, this emissary is not just any man. But someone from your past. You cannot trust him to conceal your identity. He’s Stannis’s man and could ruin our plans. Reclaiming Winterfell can end in an instance.”

“I won’t ever jeopardize our plans, Father. Not when Winterfell is at stake.” her eyes were focused on his to catch anything that would indicate he’s telling a lie.

“Do you know who was Lord Commander from the Night’s Watch?” He questioned guiding her towards the door.

“Myranda mentioned a boy commander, a bastard of Lord Eddard Stark, when we descended to the Gates of the Moon. I wouldn’t know who he is, Father.” She kept her eyes at him unfaltering at the mention of Lord Stark. _He’s Sansa’s father not Alayne’s._

His eyes narrowed, “Did she mention him? Never mind. He is here. So you see, my sweet Alayne. You must be in your best behavior. He’s not the boy that you might have known, he has every motive to distrust us and turn against us. The Wall was not kind to him, nor the brotherhood. I do not know all the details. Beneath all of appearance there’s a mad beast that craves revenge.” He opened the door to let them out. She grew quiet not knowing what to think of all this information. “Guard yourself and be wary. He won’t stay long but it is best to avoid him all together.”

As they emerged at the tourney grounds she could not help but cautiously eye everyone to see if she can spot Jon Snow. Against her better judgement Sansa wanted to reunite with her last sibling. He might be a half-brother but she still ached to be near what remained from her family. “Alayne, remember what we are working for, Winterfell. Don’t let anything cloud your vision.” He gave her a soft kiss at the top of her head and headed at the dais where Lord Robert Arryn and Lord Royce were seated among other special guests. She made her way towards one of the designated stands next to the Lord’s dais where she could view everyone at the grounds and at the stands. She was startled when Ser Lothor came to her. She smiled politely and began to unwrap her ribbon and place it on his lance. She could feel a dozen eyes on her. Once she was finished, she spotted Ser Harrold with a stern face clenching his jaw as his gaze followed Ser Lothor.

As if she was caught under a spell, the dark eyes of a man entranced her from the opposite side of the tourney. His raven dark curls framed his face perfectly. Her chest began to rise rapidly. _It’s him._ He shamelessly stared at her taking her all in. She should have looked away, feeling improper.

“Alayne? I’m speaking to you.” Myranda waved a hand over her eyes breaking her contact with him. “Who are you looking at?” She moved her head side to side to get the angle from Alayne’s direction.

“It’s no one. I was daydreaming. It’s surreal that this is my first attendance at a tourney that’s all.”

Myranda seemed skeptical but accepted the fact. As soon as she began talking again, bringing up various knights that stood a chance of winning the tourney. Alayne returned her attention to the location of the man but he was nowhere to be seen.

**Author's Note:**

> Can't get enough of Alayne and the Vale storyline wished that it was further explored in Game of Thrones. However rereading the new chapter of the Winds of Winter pushed me to write this story.  
> I hope you all enjoy and stick around for what's more to come. As always I appreciate the kudos and comments they mean a lot to me.


End file.
